


105 - The Ultimate Soulmate Fic

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-10 22:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17434814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “One where the lids are gobsmacked that van is dating a girl like you? (They think ur outta his league)” and “Could u do one where reader is very awkward but is very pretty, and all of guys ( or a select few) are in awe of her beauty but she is oblivious, and then Van beats them all to it and tells her about his actual feelings, that hes not just infatuated with her and shes super awkward about it?”





	105 - The Ultimate Soulmate Fic

**Author's Note:**

> I would like you to suspend reality for the time it takes you to read this. Let’s pretend the world is good, and that when we fall in love it’s instantaneous and all-consuming. It’s perfect in the truest sense of the word. I get that this fic is unrealistic (lol, like the others aren’t?) but I’m rolling with it. We can live in extremes just for today; just for now.

The moment you met Van McCann you stopped caring about everything else. The life you had planned for yourself didn't matter anymore. It was like you had spent your years building a city to live in. Walls to keep you safe. Places to work. To socialise. To eat. To sleep. People you knew. Safety. Structure. Then, Van. He was a tsunami that crashed through and reduced the city to rubble. Rebuilding would be impossible; even the very foundations of your existence were cracked and unusable. All you could do was stand up with the clothes on your back and join in the destruction. Be the cloudy storm swelling high above his wave. The moment you met Van, you fell in love so hard it hurt. 

You had answered an advertisement in the local paper. Female, 22, seeking 20whatever female as housemate. Must have job and like music. You called the number and a week later moved into a new apartment with Emily. You clicked right away, and decided that you'd throw a housewarming. The still unfamiliar space of your apartment filled with people quickly, and you discovered that most of her friends were musicians or associated with the music industry in some capacity. It was 10.01pm when you first saw Van from across the room. 

He was standing next to a guy you recognised from some of Emily's photos; Larry, you remembered. Van was in the same cool casual attire as everyone else in the room. The uniform of the disillusioned but no less motivated youth; mismatched black on black, with buckled boots. You watched him talking, his hands gliding through the air with no real purpose. His head nodding responsively; it flying back when he laughed. You couldn't hear the sound, but you imaged it could mend broken bones, cure cancer, stop a war. A sound so fucking happy that psychologists everywhere would go out of business. He and Larry walked across the room and stood out on the balcony, smoking. 

"Y/N, I need you," Emily said, appearing at your side and dragging you in the direction of your bedroom. You looked back over at the balcony, and for anyone watching it played out like the moment Claire Danes' Juliet was ripped away from Leonardo's Romeo at her parents' party. They'd hope, watching you watching Van, it would all end less tragically. 

In your bedroom you helped Emily fix the bra strap that had snapped. You Hollywood taped her together, and made sure everything sat as it should. You worked quickly, methodically, and silently. When you were done you asked, "Good?" She stood and eyed you off for a second, no doubt trying to work out what was happening, why you were being so weird. When there was no obvious answer, she nodded, and you both rejoined the party. You looked around for Van, and had a moment of panic. What if he had left? You spun around to check the kitchen when you collided with someone. He wasn't familiar to you, but there was a look of recognition on his face. 

"Hey, you're Y/N? I'm Emily's brother..." he started. While he was talking you kept scanning the room for Van. Emily's brother, you'd not listened to his name although you knew you should have, started complimenting you. It was inevitable. 

If people ever worked up the courage to speak to you, they'd always find their way to the clichés. Your hair, and how well you'd braided it. Your eyes, and how big they were. Something something like the stars something something. Your cupid bowed lips. The perfect spread of freckles. The way your hips swayed when you walked. How you always smelled like toffee apple, regardless of changing shampoos and perfumes. You were oblivious to all of that for so long. You had always assumed that people were strange around you because of your own awkwardness. When you finally broke and cried to your friends about being lonely, they explained that you just intimated people. An ethereal prettiness that seemed inhuman. They said you weren't all that awkward, just beautiful and a bit weird.

"Sorry!" you interjected. Emily's brother looked shocked that you'd spoken after minutes of minimal response. "I just have to go say hi to someone. It was really good to meet you," you said and walked to where you'd spotted Van on the couch. There was a space next to him, and it belonged to you. 

Van turned as soon as he felt the pressure of a body by his side. His face froze in a stare at you. You looked back at him, and there was the tidal wave. The crashing of worlds. The absolute love. Slowly, before his face made any attempt at expression, his hand rose. He held it out, and you took it. There was no shaking of hands, just holding. He dropped his hand back to where it was on his thigh, but he brought yours with him. Slowly your fingers unthreaded, but you left your hand on his leg, sitting in a loose fist.

"Hi," you said. Your voice came out in a whisper, and he smiled in response. You still hadn't broken eye contact. You wished you had any sort of artistic capacity. His eyes alone were worthy of sonnets and galleries. 

"Hey," he replied, his voice also regulated to a quiet hush. He looked at all of you then. His eyes moved from your hair, to your collarbones, across the pattern of your dress, and back up. "You... are beautiful." The words came out slowly, heavy with significance and truth. 

"Am I?" 

"You probably hear that all the time. It's true though," he said, and you could hear how much he needed you to believe it. 

"Can I tell you about how you're beautiful too?" you asked, scooting a little closer to him so that your legs were touching and your personal spaces were overlapped. He nodded. "At the back, your hair curls up a little, and you probably don't know that. It looks soft. I like the shape of your nose," you ran a finger down it, and he shivered. You traced along his jawbone too. "You've got freckles, but I have to be this close to see them," like they were a secret meant just for you, "And your eyelashes are longer than mine. Your eyes are a crystal fucking clear blue. And the way you move; I was watching you before, and you talk with your hands," 

"You were watching me? Are you kidding?" 

"No, I'm not. And you smell really clean. Like... I don't know. Just... clean." He smiled again, and it gave you more to like. "And I think I'm in love with your teeth,"

"I think I'm in love with you," he said back quickly. He was sure he was, and you were sure you were too. May as well make it official, you thought. 

"Think or know?" 

"Know. Definitely,"

"If you're in love with me you should know everything about me, right?" you said and the words came out with strange inflection because your voice wasn't used to trying to speak between such wide smiles.

"I do," he replied.

"What's my favourite colour?"

He thought for a moment and looked around the room. He turned back to you. "Blue,"

"You don't love me at all," you teased and poked his side with the hand not still on his thigh. He grabbed it and held it. "Blue's your favourite colour,"

"It is, I guess. If it wasn't before, it is now. What's your favourite colour?"

"Glitter."

He laughed and shook his head. "Sorry to tell you," he lifted your hand to his mouth and kissed the back. He let go of it, but you held it close to his mouth, palm side up. He took it again, and as silently instructed, kissed your palm. You watched him and he watched you. "Glitter isn't a colour,"

"Yeah, it is. The sparkly silver with specks of other colours. All holographic and shimmery,"

"So, silver?"

"No, glitter,"

"Glitter is… a texture, maybe…"

"You shouldn't try to change me. You should love me how I am," you said, pouting. He smiled again and nodded.

"I really fucking do," he replied with a lazy roll of the head.

For the rest of the night you stayed within reach of each other. You were planets and moons in each other's gravitational pull. You stood with your back against the balcony railing, and Van pressed up to you, keeping you protected from the cold breeze. He poured wine with one hand, so that his other arm could snake around your waist and his fingers twist under the belt of your dress. He lifted you to sit on the bathroom vanity when he needed to pee. You giggled, and when he'd washed his hands he splashed water at you from the tap and you pretended to be offended. It was like you'd only ever lived conjoined with him, and that if you had tried to do anything without him it wouldn't have just failed, but it wouldn't have even begun. You'd not have the framework to exist without him.

Back in the living room people had started to leave. It was late. Van sat in the one empty place on the couch and he held his arms up for you. You sat on his lap, back to his chest, legs stretched out to rest against the coffee table. He wrapped his arms around your middle, and you held them in place. Emily was sitting on the opposite couch, next to her brother. Next to him was a girl you didn't recognise. You liked her red hair and her denim dungarees. Next to Van was Larry, who you'd spoken to a few times throughout the night. Last in the space was another of Van's friends. He had piles of messy curls, and wore a black button up with small spots across it. It was a very cool shirt.

"If I had known this," Emily said making a weird hand gesture towards you and Van, "was going to happen, I would have introduced you sooner,"

"You've known me for a couple of weeks. I'll forgive you for the delay," you replied.

"I won't," Van said.

"Nah, Em, this," Larry made the same motion Emily had, "is completely…. unexpected, yeah?" He laughed, as did the other friend, Emily, and Emily's brother.

"What? Why?" you asked. Van's arms tightened around you.

"It's just that you're a solid fucking ten," Larry began to explain, but was interrupted by the spotted shirt guy.

"Easily fifteen," he added. You looked at him. "Hi. Benji," he pointed to himself. You smiled.

"Yeah, so, you're off the charts. And Van is…" and it took you a moment to figure out what Larry was saying. Your head wouldn’t come to the conclusion that Van was less than anything perfect on its own.

"He's the same as me. He's better," you said before Larry could articulate the lie. 

"Don't get me wrong, I love you Van, but Y/N is-"

"Completely out of his league?" Emily's brother finished, and you were really fucking glad you'd not bothered to learn his name. Emily hit him. You could feel yourself getting angry, and hurt. You turned around to look at Van, expecting pain on his face. Instead, he was smirking. He unwrapped one arm and hooked some hair that had fallen from your braids behind your ear. He ran his thumb across your lips, then looked back at Emily's brother.

"Sounds like jealousy, mate," Van said, then turned to Larry and Benji. "Anything else you fuckin' lads want to add? You could maybe list all the worst things about me?"

They laughed, then Benji said "Sometimes you-"

"Don’t," Van warned. You were still angry and hurt. You looked down at Van and he cupped your cheek in his hand. "It's all good." You shook your head. It wasn't. You didn't want people to think that. You weren't out of his league. The whole concept of leagues was fucked to begin with, but regardless of that, you and Van were perfect for each other and if other people didn't see that then they were fucking idiots. 

He leant up and kissed your cheek. It was the closest he got to your lips all night. Even when he took you to your bedroom and tucked you into bed, he only kissed your cheek. Van said he'd call you in the morning, and it was the first time you'd ever been promised that and felt sure it was the truth.

…

Of course Van called. He called you every morning and every night until the next time you saw each other. It was three days after the housewarming party. You were meeting him at a pub before going to dinner. You heard his laugh from around the corner and stopped dead in your tracks. It was an involuntary absence of movement. Your body needed to absorb the sound. When he stopped laughing there was hushed conversation then Van's loud and happy voice.

"Mate, I fuckin' know. She's the most gorgeous person in the entire fuckin' world," he said. There wasn't even a split second where you thought he was talking about someone else.

"Dead thought Em's friend was going to jump across the table and start something," another voice - Benji's maybe - said.

"That's Em's brother. I've met him a couple of times. He kept saying to me all night he was gonna ask Y/N out," Larry said.

"Think everyone there was planning on asking her out. I was. Went to look for her, but she was already tangled up with this fuckin twat," someone said, and you didn't recognise his voice.

"Well, lids, the literal walking goddess is mine and there ain't a thing that's gonna change that," Van told them, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Walking goddess. Who the fuck talks like that?" the unfamiliar voice said, and they all laughed.

Your mind then told you that eavesdropping was not only rude but sometimes dangerous. You walked around the corner and fell into Van's line of sight. He jumped up immediately and you found home again in his arms.

After meeting Bondy (who was convinced that if he'd spoken to you first it would be him you'd be on a date with; you didn't know how to explain to him that the moment you saw Van you had taken a knife to your chest and cut a hole, pried open your ribcage, ripped out your heart and handed it to Van on a golden fucking platter), and saying goodbye to the guys, you went to dinner. After that, Van walked you home. There were crunchy leaves on the footpath, and a lot of pretty feathers lying discarded. You didn't hesitate to jump through the piles of leaves, savouring the sound of them under your boots. Van followed along behind you, picking up any nice ones he thought you'd like. He also helped collect the feathers, even though you didn't tell him to. At the door to your apartment, he kissed you for the first time. It was tiny and soft. Lips pressed to lips for a few seconds, then his forehead pressed against yours as he breathed in the air you exhaled.

"I'm so fucking in love with you," he told you. He had said that twice a day since you met; the words growing with more and more truth each day.

…

A month later you were sitting at the kitchen table in his parent's house. They didn't seem at all shocked that their only child was utterly obsessed with you, nor you with him. Bernie showed you baby photos of Van. They were beautiful and told a story about a child so loved, and born to be a musician. You watched Van through the kitchen window shadowing Mary as she pottered around in the garden, spilling her tea wherever she went. Bernie looked up in time to catch you grinning at Van through the window, and to see Van wink back at you.

"I've never seen him like this," Bernie said. "Reminds me of when I met his mum,"

"You ran away to Australia, yeah?"

"Yeah. Best decision we ever made. Aside from trying another time to have him," he said, pointing outside. He noticed the necklace then. It was under your sweater, but the chain was visible. "Is that Van's necklace?" You nodded. Van hadn't explained the full significance, so the way Bernie smiled at you meant more than you knew. He shifted in his chair, and changed the subject. "What do you think of the house?"

"The one Van was looking at buying? It's not what I would have expected him to like? I love it. I think it has so much charm and character and I'm obsessed with it,"

"Looking at buying?"

"Yeah, the one in town a bit more?"

It didn't make sense to you that Bernie would bring up the house, then be confused when you said Van was thinking of buying it. It made sense when a week later Van took you to see it, pretending it was another open viewing. Larry came too, and they stood on the back porch and watched you walk all the way down to the fence. The yard was huge, and you could imagine veggie patches and cubby houses for babies. Even better, a treehouse in one of the three huge trees. When you joined them, the real estate agent had left.

"You really like it?" Van asked.

"Yeah. It's literally my dream house. Still don't think it's very you though. The yard will grow too much while you're away. It's too much space inside for just you,"

"It's for his family, Y/N, the ten children and twenty puppies," Larry joked.

"But you like it?" Van asked again. You nodded. "Good. Here," he said and took your hand and put something in it. You knew before you looked. The weight of the set of keys was physically nothing, but it was hard to hold them anyway. It had only been just over a month, and for the first time you thought maybe it was moving too fast.

"Van…" you started.

He laughed and put his hands on your shoulders. "You don't have to move in, Y/N. You love living with Em, and we're good. I just… I don't want to go through this process again in a few months or years or whatever. So, it's just easier if I buy a house you love. Yeah?"

You both pretended it was logical and out of practicality, but you both knew it was out of obsessive love. He bought you a fucking house.

…

At first you tried to avoid going to Van's, but eventually your apartment became more and more foreign. Emily's brother found all sorts of excuses to be over, and his constant watching made you uncomfortable. Emily tried to stop him, but it was awkward for everyone.

You were in Van's yard planting colourful flowers in neat rows. He came out, having just woken up, and handed you a cup of tea. You sat back on the grass and he looked down at you.

"I love you," he said.

"I love you, too,"

"You know that I love you, though, right?" He sat down and looked at you carefully. "You're dead fucking beautiful, babe. Like, the most attractive person that I have ever seen. But, I love you for more than that. S'not even top five. I love the proper you,"

"The proper me?"

"Yeah. Feather collecting, banana milk drinking, so fuckin' sweet you. I just need you to know that."

It was something already in your conscious awareness. You had known your whole life that Van McCann was in love with you and you with him; you both just had to wait until you physically met to realise it. When you did though… it was the meaning of life. The answer to every question. The cure to all problems. The ultimate universal truth. The air you breathed. It was oceans and skyscrapers and galaxies and every single fucking thing that had ever gone right in the world. They'd never be a way to explain to people how you felt about Van. But when they looked into your big, beautiful eyes, they'd see that you gave yourself over to him so quickly and willingly that it couldn't be anything other than pure and unconditional love.

**Author's Note:**

> That one is one of meee favs tbh.


End file.
